


[Insert Dick Joke Here]

by Prinzenhasserin



Category: Demon of the Underground (Webcomic)
Genre: Future Fic, Guns, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/pseuds/Prinzenhasserin
Summary: Samsid and Pogo go out for target practise with a gun and a magic penis.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fieldofyellowdandelions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieldofyellowdandelions/gifts).



> Dear fieldofyellowdandelions!
> 
> I fear the Merritt-centric piece got a little depressing toward the end, so I wrote you a fun scene featuring Samsid/Pogo, too.  
> Thank you very much for Mesonyx for the beta! (I was advised to making the dick jokes more apparent. I failed. Not the least because the English language lends itself so readily to dick jokes, and at some point even the slightest thing can get you off. Err. To anyone just reading this for the summary: Yes, the magic dick is canon.)

"I wish you would do this on a bed, for once," Pogo said with a barely perceptible whine.

Instead of answering with an enthusiastic and resounding "Yes, of course," Samsid shifted so that he wasn't pressed quite as close to the length of Pogo's irresistible self. Samsid had been practicing pinning Pogo to various surfaces for months now. In practice that meant he could push Pogo down on any flat surface and whatever Pogo did, he could not get either Samsid, or himself, off.

Pogo was privately of the opinion that it made Samsid horny, too, to hold him down. Otherwise, why would he do it so often? Pogo had been learning for ages through trial and error when he could continue to tease Samsid. Mostly, he erred.

"Uhm," Pogo said, "Why are you wasting munitions on target practice again? And why do I have to be present anyway. We all know you do better on your own."

Samsid grunted, and pressed him down harder. If Pogo squirmed just the right way, he could get friction on his cock, but when he wriggled the tiniest bit to the side, Samsid said, in a dark, shiver-inducing voice, "Stop."

Pogo stopped immediately.

"Think of a bullet," the same voice commanded. "Are you thinking about it? Good. Now focus on putting that bullet into the chamber. It's pressed on your shoulder blades, right here."

Pogo didn't know how Samsid held him down yet somehow still had a hand free to drag a single nail around the silhouette of the gun on his shoulder. He shivered.

"Focus." Samsid's voice sharpened.

"I am!" Pogo snapped back. "It's not my fault you keep distracting me! Stop touching my weak spots if you don't want me to be horny!"

"You are an entire weak spot all by yourself! I don't need to touch you to be horny, you are doing just fine all on your lonesome!"

"What do you want me to do! Be horny, or focus? I can't do both at once. It's so _hard_!”

"You want me to find someone to fire bullets at us? Because that can be arranged!"

"I just— this is a delicate process! I need sensitive handling! Or I am going to pop!"

There was a brief bit of silence, before Samsid practically purred into his ear, " That can be fixed real easy."

And before Pogo could quite change gears — he was focusing, dammit!— Samsid put a warm and heavy hand on his crotch. With a loud bang, and a recoil the both of them were unprepared for, the gun went off with an empty chamber.

"Shit," Samsid said, slightly awed, as if he hadn’t expected this to happen.

"Where did it go?" Pogo asked, trying to wiggle out from underneath Samsid. "Did it not work?"

"Shot went wide," Samsid grunted. "All over the place. I dunno if we should try again."

For some reason, Samsid eased his grip and relaxed. Pogo was able to mould himself exactly to his frame. God, that felt good.

"Can we try again?" he asked. They might as well— Samsid was already touching him and Pogo was much more comfortable when he already did, and didn’t have to be convinced to do so. It was for a good cause, at least? Who was he kidding– he was doing this for one reason and one reason only: Samsid's hands on his skin. Maybe over his clothes, too. They were big, and warm, and could snap him in half with barely a thought. Super attractive.

“You can stop trying to feel me up, now,” Samsid said dryly.

“I could not?” Pogo answered hopefully. “You know what unclenching does to me.”

Samsid rolled his eyes. He did that so often, Pogo was amazed they weren’t permanently looking inward. “One more,” he said with a more tolerant voice than the eyeroll suggested. “Then you can get a reward.”

“It’s probably a shitty reward, right?” Pogo sighed. Why was getting laid just so _hard_?

Samsid hummed his agreement, and mounted the gun on the stand. He took aim. “Now,” he said, “do you want one? Then _concentrate_.”

Pogo’s hand was still underneath his pants, and he closed his eyes. Sasmid being so close felt even more intimate when he could not see. “You stink,” Pogo complained. “You smell like gunpowder and petrol.”

Samsid chuckled. “Are you sure you are concentrating?”

“Are you?” Pogo asked back. “Because I am ready to shoot whenever.”

“Does your voodoo thing work better with dick jokes? Or is that just your natural charm?”

“Say when, and I’ll come,” Pogo said with a little high-strung laugh. Usually Samsid didn’t try to flirt back, but this was addicting.

There was a pause, and Pogo almost opened his eyes again to stare at Samsid’s face some more. The tension was palpable.

“Now,” Samsid said softly.

Pogo opened his eyes and the gun fired, but later he could not say what had happened first. Samsid was looking down on him, an awed feeling on his face. “Very good,” he said, and then swooped down to kiss him.

Pogo felt the beard scratch before he realized what was happening. There was a moment where he stilled entirely, and he could have fired all the guns in the entire world at once, but then, he was more concentrated on kissing back than on guns.

It began rather gentle, as if Samsid wasn’t really sure of his welcome. Which was pretty weird, Pogo supposed, like he hadn’t been flirting with him for their entire acquaintance. Samsid’s left hand slowly trailed along the line of his neck, and then there was a wet tongue that slipped in between his lips. It was unhurried, and so fucking comfortable, Pogo would have been fine with much less. The kiss exceeded all of his expectations. The large, warm and calloused hands were even better on his naked skin, just as he’d suspected, and gave him goosebumps. He was held very tightly.

“What are you doing?” Pogo asked out of breath, when Samsid let up and decided, in the most aggravating of ways, to lick down his neck instead. “Not that I’m complaining! But—”

Samsid bit down hard on the sensitive area between neck and shoulder. Pogo yelped, and forgot what he was talking about. The hard-on in his pants had been ready to burst ages ago. “I’m giving you your reward,” Samsid said, and then—

“Stop!” Pogo yelled. He could not believe himself. Why was he denying himself a perfectly good fun time?

Samsid stopped, and Pogo almost whined at the loss of his wicked, wicked tongue.

“No, yes— Ugh, what are you doing to me?” Pogo asked, and expected no answer. “I don’t want kissing as a reward,” he explained. “I want kissing because you want to kiss me! It’s no fun, if person you are attracted to does it out of a weird sense of duty!”

Samsid looked down at him, perplexed, and then chuckled softly. “You’re such an idiot. I have no idea how I could possibly be attracted to that.” His mouth was on Pogo’s once again. This kiss wasn’t gentle; it was searing, deep. Their bodies were pressed together, inseparable; and Pogo never wanted to leave again.

And then they continued kissing, until a red-faced Merritt came and told them to stop fucking around. Apparently, something or other was malfunctioning (and it certainly wasn’t that they had been blocking the target range for hours.) Pogo even refrained from saying they hadn’t been fucking around— which would have been a lie anyway.

  



End file.
